Conflicting Views
by Lady Sable
Summary: This fic is purely Kimblee x Archer smut. You heard me. Smut. Guy on guy smut at that. Yaoi not your cup of tea? Well if ya don’t like, don’t look, baby. It’s all pervert country in this link.


_**Conflicting Views** _

_AN: Well, I need to get this out of my system… I've been a fan of Kimblee/Archer since I first saw them in the anime together, back in June…and only now have I finished writing this fic (which I started at the end of June. Yeah, I know…I work slowly.)_

_Standard disclaimer time: I do not own **Fullmetal Alchemist**. I just borrow the characters and make them get in each other's pants. There's nothing wrong with that, right? _

…_Didn't think so. _

_Warnings: This is an extremely naughty fic. It earns its M rating with gusto, baby! It's rated for gratuitous amounts of the F word and hot drunken sex. _

_Enjoy! _

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**XXX**

"What are you doing in my house?" Frank Archer's voice was cold and distant, only slightly tinged with a hint of curiosity. His eyes gazed emotionlessly at the half-naked intruder standing in the corner of his modest kitchen.

"I'm raiding your alcohol cabinet; what does it look like?" Zolf Kimblee answered truthfully, holding up a full bottle of whiskey in each hand, grinning like a cat that had a mouse between its paws.

"I can see that plainly." Archer said, his gaze on his shirtless subordinate unwavering. "What I want to know is why you're drinking my liquor instead of a bar's."

"Easy." Kimblee smirked, closing the cabinet with his shoulder and uncorking one of the bottles with his teeth. "They charge money; you don't." He spoke around the cork, his words barely legible. Archer raised a perturbed eyebrow and Kimblee spat the cork out on the ground and took a long swig of the dark liquid.

"You know as well as I do how easy it would be for you to take whatever it was that you desired. Prices do not matter to you." Archer mumbled, giving his subordinate a cool glance. "But nonetheless, your simple logic never ceases to amaze me." Archer's voice dripped with sarcasm and Kimblee gave a displeased look as his superior came over to claim the opened whiskey bottle. Giving the other man a slight smirk, Archer knocked back the bottle, taking an impossibly long drink.

"Did you have a long day?" Kimblee cooed, his voice holding an unspoken challenge as he watched his superior attempt to drown himself in booze.

"Why, yes I did, thank you for asking." Archer's voice was once again laced with distaste as he gazed heatedly at Kimblee.

"Yes…signing papers must be excruciating. Your job is pure Hell." Kimblee refused to back down at Archer's hazy glare.

Archer only answered with a smug smirk on his face, his words calm and predatory. "It can't possibly be worse than you sitting around my house getting drunk, I wouldn't imagine."

"Touché." Kimblee sneered, shrugging his shoulders and flashing his inked palms. He then gripped the bottle, taking it from Archer's thin fingers. "Well, since you've had such a long day, you might as well come get drunk with me." Kimblee moved to the living room, pulling Archer behind him. As soon as they entered Frank's cozy living room he sprawled himself out on Archer's couch, tugging his superior down with him.

"Unlike you, I have work in the morning. Walking into the office with a hang-over is not my style." Archer pulled his wrist from Kimblee's grip, rubbing the offended skin and giving the Alchemist a dark glare.

"Who cares. You look like you need a stiff drink. You know you look like a damn corpse." He wagged the bottle suggestively in front of Archer's eyes.

Archer bit back a retort and took the proffered bottle, downing a good share of it.

"Knew you couldn't resist." Kimblee said smugly, uncorking the other bottle he had carried into the living room with him.

"Anything to get my mind off work." Archer admitted, taking another long swallow.

"Why didn't you ask me in the first place? I know plenty of ways to get your mind off of work." He gave a shallow smirk, his eyes darkening as he gazed at his superior.

Archer quirked a brow at Kimblee, giving him a steady look. "Like what?"

"Get a little more drunk and I'll show you." Kimblee grinned at Archer and tipped back his own bottle of whiskey. Archer kept wary eyes on his subordinate, watching the pale column of his neck as he swallowed, but his eyes slowly drooped, taking in the sight of Kimblee's bare, lean muscled torso. He rolled Zolf's last ambiguous comment around in his head, trying to comprehend the meaning and deciding whether or not he wanted to find out what the other man really meant.

"Wait, you're already drunk, aren't you?" Archer asked quietly, belatedly noticing the slight slur of the other mans words.

"Fucking hammered, baby. Took you long enough to notice." He put down the bottle and laughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his inked right hand. "And it's really put me in a good mood."

Archer did indeed notice his improved, carefree disposition, and he gave Kimblee a bemused glance, downing more of the fiery liquid and feeling its white-hot burn all the way down to his stomach.

The two sat in silence after that, the mood of the dark living room not quite companionable, but not as hostile as it had been before.

"Kimblee," Archer started, breaking the silence and looking over at his subordinate, his voice a bit more somber than it had been. Kimblee swiveled on the couch, and raised a brow at the other man, waiting for him to continue. "Do you ever…regret what you do?"

"Are you asking if I mind killing?" Archer turned to look at the bottle cradled in his fingers, his frigid eyes flickering with an unreadable emotion, and nodded slightly at his subordinate's question.

"Do any of your actions make you feel regret?" He murmured softly. Kimblee looked over wide-eyed at his pale superior, trying to hold back his laughter.

"Fuck, no. I'm going to the Goddamn top. I'm going to get my way whatever the cost…no matter who I have to crush to get there. I'll be fucking invincible." He sucked on his bottom lip and edged closer to Archer, his eyes shining with amusement. "And I'll make them all go _boom _while I'm at it."

Archer backed away from Kimblee, giving him an even stare and trying to ignore the close proximity of the other man and the quickened pulse of his own pounding heart. "How honorable." He deadpanned in the quiet, alcohol-scented living room.

"You should fucking _talk_. Shove it, Archer." The two fell quiet after that last remark, and during the small silence, the mood of the dimly lit room noticeably changed. Instead of being insulted by the bland abuse, Archer gave Kimblee a sultry, half-lidded gaze, running his finger suggestively along the rim of the whiskey bottle.

"Was that an offer, Major?" He whispered, rubbing his tongue hesitantly against his bottom lip. All of Frank's common sense seemed to have been erased from his mind as he gazed at Zolf with honey-thick, dark eyes.

Kimblee's surprise was evident on his face, and he drew lithe fingers through the dark strands of his ponytail. After a moment of drunken contemplation, he leaned even closer to Archer, a devilish smirk twisting his mouth. "You can't hold your liquor, can you?"

Archer rolled his ice-blue eyes and tilted back his head with a feeble, muted moan. Kimblee found his eyes drawn to the pale curve of neck and masculine lump of Adam's apple; drinking in the soft glow of the lamp flickering on his superior's skin. "Bastard, I told you not to get me drunk."

Kimblee almost laughed out loud at his discomposed superior as he whined about his low alcohol tolerance. Instead, he licked his lips and leaned over, placing the mostly empty bottle from his lap onto the carpet, afterwards running his inked hand up Archer's thigh and settling it on the thick bulge in the other man's lap. "…Oh, and yes, _sir_, I offered long before this."

Kimblee heard a sharp intake of breath and expected a sharp reprimand from Archer, even in his semi-drunk condition. He expected his hand to be slapped away, or to hear a displeased growl from his superior's lips…shit, he half expected the other man to break the Goddamn whiskey bottle over his head.

What he didn't expect though, was the trembling moan that bubbled up from Archer's vocal chords and the anxious knees that spread like an eager virgin's would.

"I haven't," Archer breathed hoarsely, gripping the neck of the empty whiskey bottle and the edge of the couch with white-knuckles. "Been touched by anyone in a good two years."

"…The fuck is wrong with you?" Kimblee mumbled, sliding off of the couch onto his knees, turning himself so he could kneel in front of the other man and wedge his body between his spread legs. "Give in to urges once in a while, why don't you?"

Archer opened his mouth to answer, but only incoherent noises of pleasure tumbled from his thin, proper lips when Kimblee's long fingers unbuttoned his pants and dipped into the hollow cave of his boxers.

There was a moment, after the initial wave of pleasure, that Archer's blood ran cold, as the realization of what Kimblee's warm, dangerous palms could do to him if he had an instant change of heart. His mouth went dry, and he almost pulled away…until those callused fingers ran up his lower stomach and caressed his skin, lightly and tenderly.

He writhed beneath Kimblee's expert touch; choking on his own tongue and forgetting his previous line of thought as he was suddenly encompassed by the unbearably hot cavern of Kimblee's mouth.

"F-Fuck," Archer hissed, burying his fingers in his subordinate's dark hair and clutching the long mane as Kimblee's head bobbed lazily, in a sultry, yet intense rhythm.

The young man backed away for a moment, licking his lips sensuously and whispering: "In good time, _Frank_."

"Fucking…t-tease." Archer gasped out, his body twisting on the stiff, onyx-coloured couch. He tossed his head; his teeth gritted together painfully as his spine curved over the back of the chair. He shifted violently, his hazy mind screaming at him to struggle. It once again begged him to pull his body away from Kimblee, from the wrongness of the situation, from the dangerous inked palms that rested on his hips, from the searing warmth between plush, hollowed cheeks, from the Goddamn _tongue _that was wrapped skillfully around his hard, throbbing skin.

Archer couldn't pull away, though. His foggy mind sobbed and pleaded to stop; but his abused and neglected body drowned in the wonderful ache.

A hushed whimper actually escaped his mouth and a pout curved on his thin lips when Kimblee pulled away first. The other man simply gave his trademark smirk and crawled onto the couch, pushing his superior down and straddling his hips and wrapping his fingers around Archer's shoulders.

"Wouldn't it be fun if I fucked you senseless?" Kimblee sneered in his quietly malicious voice, unbuttoning his superior's uniform effortlessly and easing the sleeves down over bare shoulders. His fingers trailed up Frank's waist, nudging the hem of Archer's white undershirt over the taut muscles of his lean stomach.

"Quit talking and _do it _then." Archer spat breathlessly, pulling the immaculate shirt over his head and beginning to wriggle out of his uniform trousers.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he wondered why he was submitting to Zolf, letting this unstable, manipulative, bastard dominate him…But when Kimblee ground his pelvis shamelessly against his, and worked his fingers up Frank's pale ribcage and chest…Archer's internal questions ceased.

Kimblee moaned above him, reveling in the hot friction growing between his thighs and the curve of Archer's hips. He closed his eyes tightly and subdued his movements slightly, languishly draping himself over his prey, his lips nuzzling Frank's collarbone affectionately.

Archer gave a soft little moan, gathering enough sense to wrap his arm around Kimblee's tanned back and move his other hand to the button of his subordinate's pants. Frank felt Zolf's lips turn up in a grin against his skin and he urged him on with soft whispers and a silky tongue that traced the skin below his jaw.

"_Yes_," He hissed, his tongue flicking against the throbbing pulse at Archer's neck. "Be my little bitch…"

A hazy red flag of alarm went off in Archer's mind instantly. He opened his mouth to protect his masculinity, but before he could produce any words, Kimblee smashed his lips against Frank's, effectively silencing him.

After several breathless moments of Kimblee's overwhelming kiss, Archer pulled away gasping from their clash of lips and tongues. He tightened his arm around his subordinate's back in a flurry of heightened passion, but his hand remained stationary at the zipper of Kimblee's fly.

Zolf groaned at Archer's hesitancy. "What's wrong?" His voice was low, strained, and desperate.

"Not here," Archer shook his head, colours swimming in front of his dazed ice-blue eyes. "I want you to fuck me…" He trailed off to press a soft kiss against Kimblee's jugular. "In my bedroom."

Kimblee raised an eyebrow slightly, but a tipsy grin soon curved his lips.

"Well aren't you a prissy bitch."

XXX

Archer heard the telltale squeak of his mattress as his and Kimblee's bodies landed on the bed at the same time. Their lips and arms and legs were connected and tangled in a jumbled mass of naked skin and strong limbs, as both held each other as closely as their clumsy, drunken senses would let them.

Archer let out a noise of protest when his bare skin hit the cool sheets of his bed. A chill instantly ran down his spine, and he subconsciously curled closer to Kimblee's seeking his fiery, ever present warmth.

"Don't worry, I'll warm you." Zolf held his superior down, his palms wrapped around Archer's bare shoulders and his lips pressed solidly against his thin, pale chest.

Goaded on by Archer's muffled whimpers, Zolf trailed kisses down the other man's torso, his breath whispering against the hard muscles of Frank's stomach.

Frank arched his back, pressing heated, hard flesh against flesh, and his quivering fingers finally undid Kimblee's pants, earning a hot hiss of relief from Zolf's swollen lips.

Kimblee's callused fingers ran down Archer's thin body, pressing against his pale skin and the defined muscles curving the planes of his stomach. Archer twisted and arched into Zolf's soft touch, moaning the approval of his subordinate's roaming fingers.

Zolf's touch traveled lower and lower, his fingers eventually pressing against the soft skin of Archer's thighs, coaxing him to spread himself to Kimblee. Archer complied, but Kimblee's fingers stopped their exploration suddenly, and the air was still and silent, as if it was holding it's breath. Archer realized after a moment of confusion what Kimblee was waiting for.

"Night table, first drawer. It's old, but it'll do."

Archer felt Kimblee's weight and heat leave him suddenly. A chill ran through his body at the swift loss of warmth, but he stayed still, spread exactly like his subordinate had left him.

The only movement he made was to tilt his head back and close his icy eyes, trying his best to mentally prepare himself to be fucked by the raging inferno known as the Crimson Alchemist.

XXX

The next morning, Archer awakened to direct sunlight streaming in his bedroom window, falling on the two figures tangled in damp, stained sheets.

Comfortable and carefree, in the arms of his newly acquired lover, the time of the morning didn't sink in to Frank until several moments later.

When it did, a resounding 'Goddamnit!' echoed throughout Archer's apartment.

Kimblee was startled awake, and could only rub his bleary eyes and watch as Archer tore apart his bedroom looking for a fresh uniform and repeating a perturbed, expletive mantra.

"What's wrong?" He asked at a distance, after yawning and pulling the comforter around his bare shoulders.

"I," Archer said through gritted teeth as he pulled on his uniform pants. "Was supposed to be at work an hour ago." He turned and gave Kimblee a venomous glance. "I fucking _told_ you not to get me drunk!"

Kimblee blinked a few times, but after considering the situation, he could only burst out in laughter, falling over into the pile of pillows thrown against the headboard.

"Bastard!" Archer shouted, as he grabbed the rest of his uniform and hastily left, Kimblee's obnoxious laughter following him out the door. Once he was out of his apartment and on the street, he shook his head and sighed, mumbling:

"…You Goddamn, sexy bastard."

**XXX**

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_AN: Damn, Archer's such a bitch. I apologize for the ending…it sucks, they're out of character, and the ending has a different mood than I wanted. (Shrugs.) Oh well, though._

_Yea…I love critiquing, so if you've got it, I could really use it, baby. _


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